11 days
by Xandra76
Summary: Booth is kidnapped from his home, with very few clues left behind. Considering the uncertainty of his even being alive anymore, Brennan is having a harder time than she expected. Can't really say more at this point.
1. Chapter 1

**No specific season, but before B&B finally got together. No spoilers, just vague references to facts known from "Two Bodies in the Lab". Also... obviously nothing here is mine except for the plot. **

**Chapter I**

11 days. That's how long it took her to finally break. That's how long it took to bring her to this point, gripping the metal edge of the evidence table in her lab, the waves of panic sweeping over her relentlessly, choking her, drowning her. She couldn't focus, couldn't breathe _'God what's happening to me I feel like I'm dying please please please...'_. She didn't even know for what she was praying or even to whom. God was just a superstition after all, but ... _'Please...'_

"Doctor Brennan"

She gripped the table harder, pushing her nails into the metal top. _'Can't breathe, can't breathe...I have to feel something...'_

"Doctor Brennan!" the tone was more alarmed now.

She slid her palms under the table edge, where the metal was a bit sharper and rougher and pressed hard. _'Yes, maybe this will do it ...'_

"Doctor Brennan!" someone touched her shoulder and she jerked hard, turning to stare into wide blue eyes.

"Doctor Hodgins, is there a problem?"

The blue eyes got bigger as he couldn't find his voice for a few seconds.

"I... you... are you OK?"

"Of course I am. Why wouldn't I be? There is still work to be done Doctor Hodgins, do you have anything new for me?"

He lowered his eyes and sadly opened his mouth to give her the same very short answer he'd been giving her for the past week and a half. Maybe she was really OK, maybe he just imagined... Then he saw the droplets of blood spattering on the floor and followed them back up to the table, where her hands were still gripping the metal edge.

"Jesus Christ" he encircled her wrists with his fingers, trying to pry them away from the table. He couldn't.

"Doctor Brennan...hey..." he smiled reassuringly, his face almost hurting with the effort. "Let go, OK?"

She looked bewildered and she didn't seem to really understand, her hands keeping the white-knuckled grip and the small droplets of blood continuing to hit the floor. He was at a loss as what to do. "Uh, Angela has something...she needs you to..."

Her eyes seem to clear for a bit "Oh, why didn't you say so?" . He followed her brisk pace through the mostly deserted hallway to his wife's lab.

"Hey sweetie" Angela's soft smile to Brennan faded as she took in Hodgins' panicked face and followed his eyes.

"Oh honey...what happened? Did you have an accident in the lab?" she lifted Brennan's hands, palms up, to survey the damage. She didn't need to see her husband slowly shaking his head to know the answer, and her heart broke a little more for her friend.

"Hodgins, bring me the first aid kit". Holding her hand, she tried maneuvering Brennan to sit on the couch. She took three steps before stopping. "What... I'm fine Angela, why..." she stared at her own hand as it was lifted in front of her. "Oh"

"Come on honey, sit down and tell me what happened. Please"

She sat without further protest and shrugged her shoulders. Reason. She needed a logical and rational explanation. That was always the answer. You could always rely on reason.

"From the symptoms I was experiencing – shortness of breath, irregular heart rhythm, irrational anxiety - I concluded I was having a panic attack. That is unusual in itself, as it is not something I normally experience. I believed that if I could make myself..." she gestured with her injured hands and shrugged again. "It was most irrational, but..."

"You wanted to cause yourself pain to..." Angela couldn't really finish the sentence. She swallowed the tears and began gently cleaning and dressing the cuts on her friend's palms. "Come on honey, let's go home. I'll stay with you tonight" she looked at her husband, who just nodded silently. They were both startled as Brennan jumped up from the couch.

"No! I am not going home! How can you even think... There is still work to be done! Doctor Hodgins, did you analyze the particulates on the weapon?"

Angela answered instead, the sadness in her eyes all-encompassing. "Sweetie, you know he did that days ago. We analyzed _everything_. Five times. There is nothing else we can find that..."

"NO! I will not give up on him! He would never give up on any of us! We will find him because that is what we do and that is what we have to do now and...and...he fought so hard and now we have to do the same, he fought for his life and..." her voice broke, face white as a sheet. Hodgins got to her just in time to cushion her fall as her knees gave out and she collapsed in a heap on the floor.

"Call an ambulance!"

* * *

11 days. That's how long Booth had been missing. That's how long they had all been working themselves into exhaustion – the Jeffersonian team and the FBI – to try to find any clues as to his whereabouts. That's how long it took most of them to admit defeat and lose hope they might find him alive.

11 days ago, when Special Agent Seeley Booth didn't show up for work and couldn't be contacted on either his mobile phone or the landline, the FBI sent a team to check his home. They, in turn, after arriving at the scene, called the 'squints' in.

The place was a mess, the living-room obviously the scene of a fight. There were blood spatters on multiple surfaces, broken furniture, a dent in a wall where a body had been thrown. And, most notably, a large pool of blood on the carpet and a bloody knife. The door was unlocked, no signs of forced entry. Every surface was combed and extensively analyzed by both the Bureau forensics and the Jeffersonian team, searching for the most insignificant detail.

Brennan was at her most professional, cool, collected and efficient. She faltered only for a moment a few hours later when the pool of blood on the carpet and the one on the common, un-traceable knife was identified to be Booth's, as she also established that the quantity of the blood lost was not fatal. Her colleagues got the first hint that something was amiss when she didn't even consider the possibility that what they found in Booth's apartment might not be the only blood lost.

Just inside the door a small drop of powerful anesthetic was found on the floor, leading to the conclusion that someone injected Booth with the drug as he opened the door. Even impaired by it, it appeared that he didn't give up easily, as spatters of the attacker's blood were found on two of the walls. From these spatters and all the other disturbances in the room Angela did a computer recreation of the event, which ended with Booth being stabbed, probably in the upper leg, wrapped in a blanket and carried out by the attacker and another accomplice who apparently waited outside.

By the end of Angela's presentation Brennan's jaw ached from clenching her teeth hard and her nails had left deep indentations in her palms. Her only outward reaction was to calmly send everybody back to do their work. She made her way to the bathroom and threw up, kneeling in front of the toilet and shaking so hard her teeth chattered. She joined the others after less than 30 minutes and never really stopped working.

* * *

"Ms. Montenegro? Doctor Hodgins?" they both jumped up from their chair in the waiting room of the ER where Brennan had been brought.

The doctor made his way over. "Doctor Brennan will be fine. We gave her a sedative and connected her to an IV for liquids and nutrients. She should be able to leave tomorrow, if there is anyone that can stay with her...?"

"Yes, yes, of course. So, she's fine?" Angela was leaning hard against her husband.

"She is severely dehydrated and malnourished and beyond exhausted. She's lucky that she is a very healthy athletic young woman or she would have been in serious danger. It is essential however that she takes much better care of herself or she could be back here soon in a much more serious condition."

"We'll make sure. Thank you doctor"

Hodgins hugged his wife tightly, both crying as the adrenaline wore off, the relief that Brennan was OK mixing with the heart-breaking knowledge that they probably won't ever see Booth alive again.


	2. Chapter 2

**Thank you all so much for your reviews and for your interest in the story!**

This chapter contains some disturbing scenes, but I don't think it's anything too graphic.

Chapter II

11 days. That's how long Booth had been missing. Not that he could really keep track of the number of days anymore, the day-night cycles somehow blended together in a haze of pain and confusion.

"_Seeley Joseph Booth, Master Sergeant, date of birth..." he felt the stick hit his soles again and again and gritted his teeth hard. He wasn't going to give them the satisfaction. "Seeley Joseph Booth, Master Sergeant, date of birth..." He just had to hang on a little bit longer, until his buddies came and freed him, until the rescue team made its way through the desert to sprig him from this hell-hole._

"Wakey wakey sleepyhead!" the kick to his already broken ribs pulled a loud moan from between his lips, before he could focus enough to clench his jaw. '_He wasn't going to give them the satisfaction'_

Seconds later his body registered the cold and the sounds outside. The smell was also not right, not right for the desert. And the mid-western accent of his captor...

"Get up you son of a bitch!" another kick to the ribs had him curling his whole body protectively over them, not that it did much good when the same foot pushed hard on this back landing him with a thud on the dirt floor. Pain shot up from about everywhere in his battered body. _Dirt floor...earth...not Iraq._ The last... '_how many days'?_ came back in a flash - distractedly opening his door to a man in Army uniform, his mind still too much on the case they had just wrapped up to notice the uniform was a fake until it was too late, the needle stabbed in his leg and the blur starting to cloud his mind and slow his body, the deeply-engrained, automatic response to fight, fight, kick, punch and then the searing pain of the knife in his thigh, the dizziness, the blackness.

He woke up in this place, a small basement in a cabin in the wilderness – he could assess that much in the first couple of days. He could also assess, although the realization came much later, that escape on his own was going to be extremely difficult. _'Not impossible, nothing is impossible, Bones showed him that, Bones will...'_

He felt the hook being attached to the cuffs on his wrists and his body uncurled painfully from the floor as he was lifted up. They tied his hands in front of him for this particular thing, so they could hang him from the ceiling, feet barely touching the ground. His abused muscles screamed in protest as his captor hooked the other end of the chain on a bolt on the wall.

The bucket of cold water hit him in the face, momentarily cutting off his breathing. Or was that because he knew by now what came next? In the same fashion as in the last days he felt the wires being attached to his body and then the shocks started. His body arched as the current passed through him, every single fiber in his muscles in agony. He grunted from between clenched teeth, his body jerking wildly. Again. And again. He wasn't going to scream, he would never give them the satisfaction of hearing him scream. Just as he felt the blessed blackness starting to encompass him a while later, another bucket of water was thrown in his face.

"Tsk, tsk, tsk, agent Booth. No passing out now. Where's the fun in that? Do you think I was allowed luxuries like that in prison? In the prison YOU put me in?" his captor was leaning close to him, a rough hand grabbing his jaw. "Do you know what happens to child abusers in prison? DO YOU? Oh, sure you do, you took pleasure in mentioning that before you threw me in there!" a punch to the face followed each statement.

Booth's head rolled forward as he spit blood on the floor. "You...bastard...kept your son tied up for days...and tortured him..." another punch to the gut effectively stopped his words.

"Tortured him? Apparently you don't know what torture means, which is why I'm attempting to educate you on the matter! I merely disciplined him – and who are you to tell me how I'm supposed to raise my son? Or your precious _law_? A bunch of bleeding hearts telling me how education should be" he spit on the floor, demonstratively. "Where was your law when they abused _me_ in prison? When they shoved their... but it's always better to show you, isn't it?"

A nauseating wave of panic swept over him. No, he couldn't mean...that.

"No..." he couldn't help the word from making its way out. "No..."

His captor laughed. "No? So that's all it takes to break the big bad Ranger / Agent?" he swept his eyes slowly over his half naked body and Booth couldn't suppress the shiver.

"But no worries, I'm not that way inclined. Although..." he grabbed an empty beer bottle from the table and affectionately caressed it "...there are always other ways"

The panic intensified. _'Can't breathe, can't breathe...please God...They'll come for me they always do they won't give up they don't leave people behind the Rangers the Bureau the squints Bones...BonesBonesBones...'_

The small touch of the beer bottle to his hip brought forth the last bits of adrenaline he had, and with a superhuman effort he grabbed the chain above him and lifted his feet high from the floor, kicking his captor hard in the face. He flew back into the wall, disoriented. That lasted only for a few seconds, and his eyes darkened dangerously. He got up slowly, wiping the blood from his mouth.

"You really think you can stop me? That's pathetic!" he leaned closer towards Booth and enunciated every word carefully. "The only way out for you is death. And you're not getting that until you beg for it, do you hear me? You beg me to kill you and maybe I'll grant your wish. Maybe." he turned to leave but changed his mind. "Oh, and in case you still hold the idiotic hope someone will come for you – my cousin, who went to...fetch you, is not in the system. No way to identify him, do you hear me? No way to find you" he unchained the cuffs and shoved another needle in his prisoner's arm before slowly locking the door behind him.

Booth's whole body twitched, the shivering so bad his teeth chattered. The cold floor beneath him seemed to finally drain the last of his hopes. Rational thought had long since abandoned him, _'What would Bones say?' _being replaced with a cold despair. _'No way out no way out'_. The drugs in his system made thinking difficult, the haze setting heavily over him. _'No one is coming no way out'_

The next time the agony of another electrocution session enveloped his body he screamed.


	3. Chapter 3

**Thanks again so much for your interest in the story!  
**

**Chapter III**

_They had just wrapped up their latest case and were out celebrating, for once everyone happy and light-hearted, the bantering flowing freely from all directions. One by one the others left, late at night, leaving her with Booth, like so many times before._

"_Another drink?". He looked so good, with his strong jaw and symmetrical features and his deep chocolate brown eyes and..._

"_I think I should go home, tomorrow I have to finish reviewing a paper on the early hominids from..."_

_He raised a hand to stop her. "Of course you do, Bones, of course you do. Lunch tomorrow then?" His smile was warm and it reached all the way up to his eyes._

_She agreed and smiled back at him and almost unconsciously let her hand skim over between his shoulder blades on her way out of the pub._

She sat on the couch in her living-room in a haze, hearing Angela as she moved around in the kitchen. The simple thought of food made her throat close up.

_He leaned over the table to again steal some fries and she made a show of slapping his hand away and protecting her plate. He grunted in mock annoyance and stole a piece of her pie instead._

She stood abruptly, the wave of that unnamed feeling sweeping over her again. Panic, desperation – she didn't try finding a name for it. At first, a few days ago, she thought it to be something physiological. It had to be, as rationally she couldn't find any other explanation for the almost constant pain starting around her heart and traveling upwards, squeezing her throat and bringing tears to her eyes. 'Heart-breaking' was just a metaphor after all, wasn't it?

She felt her whole world, worse, her whole _self_, crumbling down. Because if there was something Doctor Temperance Brennan could always rely on it was rationality. Logic and reason had kept her together before, even in the most harrowing of circumstances. And now, on top of everything, on top of losing Booth, she was losing the pillar of rationality also.

Because, rationally, she had to accept that the chance of him still being alive was extremely small. No ransom call received, no new clues uncovered, no more evidence to analyze, no stones left unturned. Nothing.

The FBI followed every possible lead they or the Jeffersonian team uncovered – possible witnesses in or outside Booth's building extensively interviewed, call history and computer analyzed for possible threats made, old cases reviewed and people he put in prison accounted for and appearing clean. They had the kidnapper's DNA but no suspects to compare it to. They had fibers and particulates but nothing that led anywhere.

However, and that's where the dissonance laid, she simply _couldn't_ accept that he was gone. She refused to believe that he would never come sauntering into the lab 'chop-chop'-ing them to leave for another crime scene, that he would never smile that special smile that lit up his eyes, that she would never see those colorful socks peeking from under the proper suits or her eyes would never again stray towards the outrageous 'Cocky' belt-buckle.

Her mind tried desperately to conjure more and more images of him, until they were swirling around in her head in a colorful kaleidoscope. She would give anything, anything to just be able to touch him once again, at least for a minute, to let that warmth seep into her, to tell him ...to tell him.

The truth of that last thought slammed into her – she never told him. He was a perceptive man, smarter than he allowed seen, smart with people, so maybe he knew. But still, she never _told_ him and that was killing her.

Angela came from the kitchen with a bowl of soup and she forced herself to swallow a few mouthfuls, lacking the energy to argue.

"Why would anybody go through the trouble of carrying him out of the apartment if all they wanted to do was kill him? They could have done that easier inside"

Angela sighted "Oh honey, please, you have to..."

"No, I don't! Even if he's... I still have to find who did it" she stood up again, soup forgotten. She had to get it together, or they won't take her seriously enough. Brennan didn't understand why everybody treated her more like a bereaved wife than the accomplished, world-renowned scientist she was.

She took a deep breath. "Look, just hear me out – why didn't they finish him off in his apartment? Rationally that would be the thing to do"

"Okay" no point in arguing, anyway. "People are not always rational, more times than not they act on emotions, not reason"

"Emotions" she had to gather her thoughts, this was not her strong suit. "To prepare and execute a plan like this one there must have been a lot of effort involved. So, if there was no rational reason to do so – like demanding a ransom or blackmailing the FBI or us for some evidence, like the Gravedigger did- then the reason has to be some pretty strong emotion, wouldn't you say?"

"Yes, absolutely"

"So maybe killing him wouldn't have been enough to bring satisfaction, wouldn't have been punishment enough. If they wanted to get revenge for something Booth did they would want to inflict more suffering than mere death" She refused to let any images form in her head. '_Nononono... hydrogen, helium, lithium, beryllium...'_

'_Jesus what is she doing to herself...'_ Angela had no choice but to go along with it. "So they would keep him somewhere. We still don't have any clue as to where or even who"

"Wanting to keep him somewhere as revenge would suggest someone he put in prison"

"But all of them are either still inside, dead, or have been interviewed by the FBI"

"There were two men. The one inside the apartment could be a friend or family member, or both could be if it's about someone still in prison"

"They could. But there's no way to..."

"The DNA search – was there a comparison made to find potential family members from Booth's old cases?"

"Of course there was, honey. You know that. We searched for as low as 20% matches"

"But not lower?"

"No. That wouldn't mean much anyway"

"Do it. Let's go. Do it." She grabbed her bag and was out the door before Angela could even stand from the couch.

* * *

If they got nothing from this search there was nothing to do anymore. This was it, the final hope. The last chance to...to what? Even if they found him, the chances were still high that he wasn't alive anymore. Hodgins squeezed his wife's hand. "Ange, this could take hours still. At least try to get some sleep"

They were all there again in the middle of the night, Hodgins and Angela, Cam, Sweets and even Daisy. And even she was quiet.

She cast a 'you-can't-be-serious' glance in his direction and moved her eyes towards the corner of the lab. Brennan still stood there, unflinching for the past hour, eyes fixed on the rapidly moving images on the computer screen.

"Yeah..."

In the quiet of the lab the beep startled them.

"We got a match! A 7.5% match, but ..." everyone gathered in front of the computer, hearts in their throats.

"Who is it?"

Angela's fingers were flying over the keyboard. "Our bad guy has a 7.5% DNA match to a Hank Sutton, arrested by Booth 8 years ago for kidnapping his son from his ex's place, keeping him tied up for days and...Jesus ... there's whipping and food deprivation... The kid was fortunately found alive and was reunited with his mother. How the hell did this bastard ever got out of prison?"

"7.5% - that's a first cousin once removed. Obviously not in the system. Call the FBI"

* * *

No matter the amount of arguments, reasons and even pleading she put out, Brennan was not allowed to accompany the FBI team as they followed the lead. She was promised though, with that hated 'I'm-sorry-for-your-loss' tone of voice that they'll keep her posted to any new developments. Even his colleagues didn't really believe they could find him alive.

It was hours later and not even a phone call. How those hours passed she didn't really know, but the others had to physically stop her from getting in her car and demanding answers from the feds more than once.

She stopped breathing altogether when the phone rang and apparently she looked so close to the edge that Sweets took matters into his own hands and answered her phone. The few seconds of silence felt like an eternity.

"They found him. He's alive"


	4. Chapter 4

**I can't tell you how happy it makes me that you like the story, especially considering I've never tried something this angst-y before. Thank you!**

**Sorry for any possible mistakes – I'm not a native speaker, so...**

**Chapter IV**

She was already waiting there, at the hospital, when they brought him down from the helipad on the roof. They all were, but the others hung back, letting just Brennan approach the stretcher.

Booth was awake but seemed unfocused, probably pumped full of sedatives or painkillers. He had an oxygen mask on, an IV tube in his arm and some bruising across the visible, upper part of his chest; face bruised, swollen, with traces of blood partially cleaned by the paramedics – he still looked like the most beautiful thing she ever remembered seeing.

She stood there frozen in the middle of the hallway, unable to move or say anything. _'What was the appropriate thing to say in situations like this one? What could she say to... He would know, Booth always knew what to say'_

"Booth..."

It was him who signaled the paramedics to stop and took off his mask.

"Bones...hey...I'm fine. I'm fine, OK?"

She must look terrible if he, in his current condition, felt the need to reassure her. She unconsciously touched a hand to her cheek and felt the wetness there, her throat feeling like somebody was choking her from the inside. All she managed to do was lay a trembling hand on his chest.

"Booth" she tried putting everything in just saying his name, as no other words seemed to be able to come out of her mouth.

The corners of his lips moved like he was trying to smile but the sedatives probably took full effect and his eyes closed.

"Ma'am we have to go"

* * *

The FBI team brought them up to speed on the rescue operation as they were all waiting for the doctor with news on Booth's condition.

Once Hank Sutton was identified as the probable kidnapper the agents paid him another visit. He wasn't found at home, but a mobile phone invoice carelessly left on the kitchen table gave them the information needed to do a trace of his phone to his cousin's cabin in the woods. It was almost frustrating how such obviously unintelligent criminals managed to elude identification for so long. A SWAT team was transported by helicopter to a clearing a mile or so from the cabin, from which point they proceeded on foot as not to alert the kidnappers. Using an infrared scanner to pinpoint the exact location of the people inside they were easily able to take the cousins down. Sutton refused to relinquish his gun, forcing the SWAT team to kill him - "suicide by cop", as the FBI agent put it. His cousin was in custody.

All in all, a relatively easy operation, the agent had said. It was Sweets to notice his fidgeting, like he hesitated to share something.

"Agent Garcia, is there anything else?"

He looked uncomfortable. "No, not really... I... It was... If Booth wants to give the details it's his story to tell, but in my report I'll be recommending mandatory visits to you, Doctor Sweets. It...he didn't look too good and that place..."

Brennan intervened "Of course he didn't look good – there was extensive bruising over the upper...:

Sweets stopped her "I believe he means psychologically, Doctor Brennan"

"Oh" she frowned. "But why..." she stopped mid-sentence as the door opened and the doctor came out, instantly surrounded by everybody.

"How is he?"

"What is the extent of his injuries?"

"Is he going to be fine?"

"What can you tell us doc?"

He raised a hand to stop them.

"Agent Booth will be fine, his external injuries are being tended to as we speak; we just finished a complete MRI scan and there are no life-threatening internal injuries" he shook his head "How that is possible I don't know, considering"

"Considering what?"

"Doctor Brennan, you are listed as his emergency contact, so I am at liberty to disclose the information. However..."

"My friends from the Jeffersonian can stay and so can doctor Sweets. Just tell us"

They all sat in the waiting area, a feeling of dread looming.

"First of all, Agent Booth is severely malnourished and dehydrated, showing that he was rarely given sustenance during his captivity. He suffers from mild hypothermia and has extensive and severe bruising over the most part of his body – he was badly beaten, while his hands were tied up. Three ribs on the left side are broken, one of them puncturing his lung – fortunately it was a superficial puncture that healed by itself. We'll still need to operate to realign the bones properly"

"Punctured lungs can heal by themselves? I thought..." Angela interrupted.

It was Brennan who answered "If the puncture is superficial, in can happen. It is...extremely painful though"

"Two ribs on the right side are cracked, and so is the mandible and right zygomatic" he looked at Angela "Cheek bone". He hesitated a bit and lowered his eyes.

"There are also... multiple burns, with various degrees of healing, over his torso and abdomen from electrodes having been attached to the skin" he stopped here, letting them absorb the information.

It was Sweets who appeared confused this time "Electrodes...?"

Again Brennan was the one who answered, her back ramrod straight and hands clenched tightly in her lap. "Delivering electrical currents through electrodes attached to the body is a well-known method of inflicting pain". She swallowed hard "He was tortured"

* * *

More than an hour had passed before they were allowed to see Booth. He was still unfocused and agitated, as the doctors couldn't give him more sedatives because of the drugs the captors had used.

"I'm sorry but you'll all have to go now" the nurse was adamant about that.

"We can't just leave him alone like this!"

"One person can stay, but if he gets more agitated you'll have to leave"

No verbal communication was needed as Brennan just pulled a chair near the bed and sat while the others filed slowly out the door.

She looked him over, forcing a clinical detachment to her survey of his body. It was much worse actually seeing what the doctor described. Clinical detachment down the drain, she catalogued the visible injuries with a lump rising higher and higher in her throat. _'Can't lose it now can't lose it you have to stay strong he needs you get a grip get a grip!'_. She forcefully swallowed the lump and leaned over him. He was still agitated, eyes jumping wildly from one corner of the room to the other, hands fisting the bed sheets.

"Booth... hey, Booth... you're okay, you're safe now"

He focused on her face, still breathing too fast under the oxygen mask.

She touched his face and made an enormous effort to smile. "You're okay, I'm here"

He was trying to say something and she removed the mask to hear him. His voice was faint and she had to lean closer to hear him. "Bones...you...you didn't come...he said you'll never come for me... you didn't come...don't leave me here"

She would have never believed that words have the power to physically hurt so badly. She felt like someone stabbed her in the middle of the chest and couldn't breathe for a moment.

"I...I... tried Booth, I..." she wanted to run; she wanted to go somewhere and bury herself into a corner and never come out again.

"Doctor Brennan you'll have to go. His heart rhythm spiked and his breathing is much too fast. I'm sorry but..."

Booth pulled off his mask himself this time, again seeming more present. "Don't please...don't send her away. Stay with me, Bones" he pleaded with his eyes.

Brennan didn't wait for the nurse's approval to sit on the bed, lightly holding his hand. There wasn't a force in the universe that could move her from this spot.

He fell asleep shortly after, gripping her hand hard, and she just sat there for hours until they came to take him to the OR to fix the broken ribs.

Only after he was safely out of surgery, sleeping, and the others again came and left, she went home, sat on her couch and cried harder than she ever remembered crying in her life.


	5. Chapter 5

**Just one more chapter to go after this one, I think. I'm hoping to post as soon as possible, before my vacation is over tomorrow... :(**

**Thanks again for the continued interest in the story!**

**Chapter V**

The next day, against the doctor's orders and to the nurses' exasperation, Booth had a lot of visitors. Granted, they were only allowed short visits but they were all there – Angela and Hodgins, Sweets, Cam, a couple of the interns, a few colleagues from the Bureau, Caroline; all with a notable exception – Bones. So Angela just charmed the doctor into letting her stay a while longer.

Every time the door opened Booth's eyes jumped to it, face lighting up only to close up again, fact that didn't escape notice. Angela felt like strangling Brennan, where was she? She tried calling repeatedly from outside the hospital room but got no answer. She called work and learned that yes, Doctor Brennan was there but was busy and couldn't come to the phone. _'What the hell is going on here?'_ finally she just resigned herself to watch that hurt puppy look every time the door opened and Bones didn't come through. He didn't ask though, and was still pretty out of it, so Angela refrained from trying any kind of explanation.

As a consequence, there was a lot of pent up frustration involved when she showed up at Brennan's place that evening. She didn't even allow her friend to open her mouth.

"What the hell are you doing Brennan? Where were you all day?"

"What do you mean? I was at work, of course" Her calm demeanor pissed Angela off even more.

"_Of course_? What the hell? Why didn't you come to see Booth?"

"I saw Booth last night when he came out of surgery; he was fine. I didn't need to be there today also"

"You didn't need... Are you totally out of your mind?" she couldn't even find the words.

"I take my work very seriously, as you know. Besides, I was needed at the lab more than at the hospital"

Angela opened her mouth to yell, when something in Brennan's voice and in the way she phrased that last sentence registered. She remembered Booth's fake funeral and Brennan's reaction to it. Allowing herself a moment to calm down, she really looked at her friend for the first time that evening.

"You look like hell"

"Thank you Angela. Now please, I am tired and would like to get some sleep"

"Hey...it's me here. What's going on sweetie?"

Brennan turned away, staring out the window. "Nothing is going on. I am tired and..."

"Yes, I know you are tired. We all are" she softened her voice even more "What did you mean you were needed at work more than at the hospital?"

"Just what I said. The lab can't function without me there, while..." the lump was back in her throat and she tried swallowing it.

"While... while what? You can't really think Booth _doesn't_ need you, can you?" The silence was more telling than an answer.

"Oh my God honey, you really don't know how that man feels about you? How can you not know? It's written so plainly all over his face every time he looks at you"

'_You didn't come...you didn't come...don't leave me here' _the words were going round and round in her head, they have been for hours now. Brennan shook her head, not turning from the window. Her voice was barely audible "He hates me...he blames me for not getting to him sooner and he has every right to do so"

Walking up to her, Angela forcefully turned Brennan to face her. Silent tears were streaming down her face. "Look at me sweetie. I don't know what happened last night or what you think happened, but trust me, Booth doesn't hate you. He loves you, and that's obvious for everybody. All day today he waited for you, do you hear me? All day I had to see the hurt on his face when the door opened and it wasn't you. Talk to him. Go see him and talk to him". Looking at her, she didn't really think Brennan will listen.

* * *

It was late the next afternoon by the time Angela went back to the hospital, Sweets just leaving Booth's room as she made her way towards it.

"How is he?"

"Better, I'd say. He still sleeps a lot and they're keeping him on pain meds, but he's not so out of it anymore. He...I'm not so sure how he deals with everything though; he doesn't seem to want to talk to me"

"Give him some time Sweets, he will eventually. It's...he needs..."

"Yeah. Where is Doctor Brennan, by the way? I imagine you saw her?"

She sat him down in the waiting room and told him about the conversation the previous night, frustration clearly visible. "I don't seem to be able to reach her"

"She's set on this idea, this pattern of thought, and considering it concerns emotional matters, which are difficult for her, she needs someone else to break that pattern. Of course, the one who usually does that is Booth, so..."

"My point exactly, Sweets"

* * *

Booth was awake as she entered the room and she had to see the hopeful/disappointed look all over again.

"Angela" he did smile a little though.

"Hey"

"Your turn to babysit?"

She went to sit beside him. "It's not like that and you know it"

He was silent for a while but she could clearly see something was bothering him. _'Gee, what could that be?'_

"You can ask, Booth, you know"

"Is she okay?"

"She's not injured in any way, but as to being okay..." she let the answer hang. "That's all you want to ask?"

He sighed. "What do you want me to ask, Angela? Why she isn't coming? I already know that"

"Do you?"

"Sure. This...what happened to me..." he had a hard time saying even that much. He took a deep breath and winced as his ribs jostled. "Sweets told me it was she who made the rescue possible. He also said she was told everything that...happened. I realize it's something difficult for her to face, so she stays away."

"Booth, come on, you know her better than that"

And he did, he really did, but his emotions were so raw and hard to keep under control he felt like crying.

"I know she cares, Angela, I know she's not a 'cold fish'. And I also know she's protecting herself by not being here and normally I would be all for that. But...I know I'm being selfish...I...I'd really like her to be here"

Her vision blurred and she furtively wiped her eyes. "You're not selfish Booth, you're one of the least selfish people I've ever met. Look, you're right, she does care, but I don't think you realize just how much she does". She told him everything, about the long days and nights trying to find any clues, the determination and then desperation in Brennan's eyes, the panic attack, forgetting to eat or sleep and ending up in the hospital. She also told him how she thought he hated her, blamed her for the late rescue.

"How on Earth does she think I could blame her? And how can she think I could ever hate her when...Jesus...I..." he covered his face with his hands, feeling his heart break. "If this is what she thinks of me, of how I feel..."

* * *

"What is it Doctor Sweets?"

She would appear to be her usual collected self for someone who didn't know her, but the strain was visible in her face. "I am rather busy"

"I know that. And I'm not going to take much of your time. I'm not going to ask for explanations and I'm not even going to expect an answer from you. Just hear me out, okay?'

He waited until she nodded and put down the piece of old bone she was analyzing.

"I understand that this immersion in work and not going to see Booth is your way of coping. So does he, I'm sure. But it is obviously not working, not for you and not for him. You can rationalize and say he doesn't need you there, but from what the nurse told me he pleaded with her to let you stay and could only sleep holding your hand"

She interrupted "He was drugged and confused"

"Yes, he was. But you use the drugs and confusion to justify him saying he needs you but ignore them in regard to whatever else he said to make you believe he blames you. I'm sure you see the flaw in the logic there" he allowed her a few moments to digest what he just said.

"I understand this is very difficult for you, for all of us, but _now_ should be about what's best for Booth, not us. He wants you there, he needs you there, that much is obvious. I seriously doubt he blames you for anything, but if he does, maybe he needs to tell you that." He paused for a moment, as this went against everything a psychologist would ever say "And I don't want to be callous, Doctor Brennan, but considering everything that happened, it's his needs that should come first right now"


	6. Chapter 6

Final chapter!

I know I'm repeating myself, but THANK YOU for the reviews and interest in the story.

I hope you enjoyed!

**Chapter VI**

She was pacing his hospital room for at least half an hour already, around three sides of the bed and back again. _'Table, door, TV set, window, window, TV set, door, table ...' _

"You're gonna make me dizzier than I already am, Bones"

She jumped, startled. "Booth! You're awake"

"Yep. Fancy seeing you here" he cringed as soon as the words left his mouth. That wasn't the way he planned on starting this conversation. "Sorry. I'm sorry, Bones, that was uncalled for"

"No, you have every right to be upset. I should have visited you before, I just..."

"Hey, it's okay, I'm glad you're here now" he threw the blanket aside and slowly turned to lower his feet to the ground.

"Can I help you? Do you need help?"

He gave her an odd look "Yeah". She could swear there was a pause before he disambiguated, by extending an arm to her. "Help me sit up here"

She pulled slowly on his arm while he pushed with the other, gritting his teeth.

"Are you okay Booth? Are you in pain?"

"I'll be fine" small beads of sweat appeared on his forehead. "It'll pass in a second"

She eyed the still full vial of morphine from which he could've released small amounts by pressing a button any time during the night. "You didn't use any morphine" her tone was accusatory.

"I'm fine"

"But Booth..."

"I said I'm fine. I hate that" jerking his chin towards the vial "My head was screwed with enough"

"Did you know that habituation or sensory adaptation occurs quite quickly with constant sensory stimulation for almost all the senses but not for pain?"

"Huh?"

"I just meant ..."

"I know what you meant, Bones" he smiled faintly at her – at least some things never change. He could postulate a theory of his own: 'When faced with an uncomfortable situation Bones will always sprout science-y stuff'

She went to sit beside him on the bed, soaking up the warmth radiating from him. Her mouth opened and closed a few times but still nothing came out.

"Come on Bones, what is it? Spit it out"

"Spit what out? I don't... Oh, you meant that figuratively" she took a deep breath. "I should have thought about searching for lower DNA matches a lot sooner"

"Hindsight is always 20/20"

"What do you mean?"

"The tendency to see past events as being predictable. It's a judgment error". He shook his head "Sweets must be rubbing up on me"

"Are you saying my judgment is erroneous?" she frowned.

"Well, in this case..."

"I don't think so Booth. This is what we do, we solve crimes, we identify people, we find them from the smallest clues and now when..." she faltered "...it was so _important_ and I... I'm so sorry Booth. I'm so sorry, you have every right to blame me for what..."

"Hey" he grabbed her wrist forcefully. "Listen to me. I don't blame you. I don't. It's not your fault, nothing that happened is your fault. Do you hear me? Whatever got you the idea I might blame you?"

The damned lump was back in her throat "I...you said... you said I didn't come for you...when they brought you in...you were..."

He swiped a hand over his face "Jesus Bones, I don't know what I said, I don't even remember... I didn't even know where I was"

She didn't say anything and didn't raise her eyes from the spot on the floor she had been staring at. _'God I have to go there I have to make her understand'_ His hand was shaking slightly, still holding on to her wrist. "That's what _he_ said, that you, that _nobody_ will come for me. That's probably why I said... I thought I was still there, I..." his breathing was fast and uneven and his grip on her wrist was becoming painful.

"Booth..." she raised her other hand to touch his face and he unconsciously recoiled before settling down and releasing her wrist. White marks were visible where his fingers squeezed.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry Bones, I can't... talk about this now" he fought hard against the need to curl up in a corner and instead stood slowly. "How could you ever think I would blame you? How could you not _trust_ the way I feel about you? You must know that!"

She was aching to touch him, to hold him, but didn't dare to at this point. She tried to swallow the tears choking her "I do, I do know. I...failed you. If not in finding you sooner then in trusting you"

He lost it. "Stop! Stop it! Stop trying to assume blame! You don't understand! It's not you who failed me, it's the other way around"

Saying these things out loud, saying these things to her was harder than he could have imagined. But it was something he had to do now or he might never do.

"I don't...break easily Bones. I'm trained for that. Sure, I hurt as much as the next person but pain is just pain. It's how you deal with it that matters, it's what you're made of, what you show yourself and the others to be. I didn't break in Iraq, I stood up to them even when I couldn't physically stand anymore. But now...now they broke me and that's what's so painful. And they did that not because you didn't find me soon enough but because I lost faith. I didn't trust you enough to believe, really believe, that eventually you would come for me" he leaned against the wall, his eyes squeezed shut, his whole body shaking.

He felt her approaching and forced his eyes open. Tears were streaming down her face, the battle to keep them confined lost a while ago. She placed her hands on his chest cautiously and when he didn't flinch she molded herself to him, head to toe, face in the crook of his neck. Slowly, his arms went around her and he held on, still shaking. She murmured incoherently, words muffled in his neck, but every word was music to his ears, soothing him a bit more.

"I missed you so much Booth...couldn't believe...I need you...always...don't ever leave again...so scared...so lonely without you...I missed you so much...I love you...love you..."

They were still entwined against the wall, both crying, when Sweets came in a while later. He gave one look and slowly closed the door behind him. It was going to be a long way to recovery but the first and most important steps were already taken.

**End note:** Well, like Sweets said, it's still a long road to recovery, but I feel that's maybe for another story. This one wanted to deal with the kidnapping and its immediate consequences for B&B.


End file.
